


theory of procrastination

by thunderylee



Category: KinKi Kids
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-23
Updated: 2008-03-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 13:05:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12795204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Nagase has a big fucking mouth.





	theory of procrastination

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

It’s been months, but he can still taste him on his lips. Koichi paces his living room, the soft carpet cushioning his bare feet, his fists clenched in frustration. He punches the couch cushion, doesn’t feel any better, punches it again, this time banging his hand on the back of the couch and wincing. A lot of good that did.

It’s been months, and he can’t stop thinking about it. Those lips, thin and soft just like anyone else’s lips but somehow more powerful. It wasn’t even a _real_ kiss, Koichi berates himself. It was a fanservice kiss. Everybody knows this.

Nagase’s advice is typical and unrepeatable. Nagase, while being the voice of reason at times, was more often the voice that Koichi’s conscience was trying to work against. “It’s obvious you want to do it again,” Nagase says, like it’s as simple as going back to a ramen shop he liked. “I’ve known him as long as I’ve known you, and I’m telling you he would not be opposed to the idea.”

This, of course, makes Koichi flail. He _knows_ Tsuyoshi would go for it; he’s known him for as long as Nagase has. That is not the point. The point is that Tsuyoshi, despite everything, is still a man and his partner and everything he shouldn’t be when he’s frequenting Koichi’s mind like this. Before he can express this to Nagase, the latter cuts in with, “And if you can’t bring yourself to do it in person, do it in theory.”

“What?” Confusion is welcome; confusion is familiar.

“ _Theory_.” Nagase makes a rude hand gesture, and Koichi’s eyes go wide like he’s twelve years old again. “Don’t be ashamed to think of him. No one will know but you. And me, but I know everything.”

Koichi blinks. “I have to go.”

“Do it tonight!” Nagase yells after him. “You’ll feel better!”

Now he’s staring at his hand like it’s not connected to his body. It’s so traitorous, this body that’s yearning for what he doesn’t want to give. It’s not the first time Nagase’s advice has crossed his mind. Several times since his birthday, actually, including that night. He hasn’t gone through with it. He can almost see Nagase shaking his head. “No _wonder_ you’re so frustrated, Kouchan.”

Fuck it, he inevitably decides, flopping down on the couch and forcing his hand between his legs. At first contact he moans, a little shamefully, biting his lip to hold it back like someone’s around to hear. There’s no one around. There never is.

It’s been so long that his own touch surprises him. His body goes into overdrive and he’s stretched out on the couch with his pants halfway down his thighs before he knows it. It feels so good that he wants to make it last. One hand lifts over his head to pull his own hair, god he likes that, the other sliding up and down his rather impressive erection, if he does say so himself. He squeezes just the way he likes it and twists on the tip, moaning a little more as he arches up and closes his eyes.

And here he goes. He’s supposed to be thinking about Tsuyoshi. Tsuyoshi kissing him, not in front of a crowd or anyone, not stopping after just a peck. Tsuyoshi taking him into his arms, laying him down, covering his body with his. Tsuyoshi’s soft, high-pitched noises in his ear, or maybe they’d be loud. Probably they would be loud, Tsuyoshi’s that kind of man. When he feels good, he feels good, and he doesn’t give a damn who knows it. Koichi wishes he were half as strong as Tsuyoshi.

Tsuyoshi’s face is clear as day behind his eyes, giving him that half-assed smile and looking at him like he can see straight into his soul. Normally Koichi despises that look, but right now he’d give anything to see it. The thought of Tsuyoshi walking through his front door and seeing him like this almost makes Koichi come on the spot.

Not yet. He’s nowhere near done yet. His fantasy is still rated PG-13. Nagase would not approve. Okay, fine. What do two guys do when they’re making out on the couch? No, bed. Koichi’s bed, with the red silk sheets and the mirror on the ceiling. Hell, this is a fantasy, make it a waterbed. Koichi’s moving with the waves, Tsuyoshi settled on top of him, close enough to feel…

“Tsu _yo_ ,” Koichi gasps, his hand flying up and down his length, unable to stop or even feel guilty about finishing so fast. He barely remembers to push up his shirt as he releases on his stomach, groaning in a way that, while coming from his own voice, seems to make him shudder even more.

His cell goes off. Tsuyoshi. Great. If he doesn’t answer, Tsuyoshi will worry. That’s how he is. “Mosh,” he mumbles, the rest of the greeting getting lost in his stifled sigh.

“Kouchan, what are you- are you okay?” He’s worried anyway.

“I’m fine,” Koichi replies, still struggling to catch his breath and not even trying to hide it anymore. “What do you want?”

“You sound like you’re scared to death or something.”

Or something. “What do you want?” he tries again.

Tsuyoshi pauses. “What are you doing?” His tone implies that he knows a secret.

He knows no such thing. “Nothing, working out.”

“Mm.” Tsuyoshi totally doesn’t believe him, what the hell.

“Have you been talking to Nagase?” Koichi demands.

“Should I be?” Tsuyoshi asks casually. “Maybe I’ll call him right now. Ja.”

“What the…” Koichi glares at his phone like it’s its fault and throws it across the room.

Twenty minutes later, Koichi hasn’t moved. He’s cleaned himself up as well as he can without leaving the couch, but he still feels pretty gross and doesn’t really care. Nagase didn’t warn him that the images from his ‘theory’ would continue to haunt him after the fact. Koichi wonders how he’s going to sleep tonight. At least his phone is off.

_Knock, knock_. What the… Koichi is so not getting up. He doesn’t care if it’s Johnny himself on the other side of the door. It’s not like he locked it.

“Kouchan, I know you’re in there…”

Koichi frowns. Tsuyoshi lives across _town_. He’s a little worried that something bad might have happened, not enough to get up but enough to call out. “Come in.”

He barely remembers to fix his clothes before Tsuyoshi storms in the door. Would have served him right, showing up unannounced. The look on Tsuyoshi’s face is steady, jaw set and eyes blazing. Koichi would think that he’s pissed if he didn’t know better.

“We need to talk,” he says firmly.

Koichi stretches his head back on the couch pillow and gets comfortable. He’s ready for this conversation, that’s what he’ll tell himself and maybe it will be true. “Talk.”

Lips touch his and Koichi might have squeaked. If this is Tsuyoshi’s definition of talking, Koichi’s certainly ready for an all-night conversation. It’s all he’s thought about for months, this feeling, and judging by Tsuyoshi’s tongue flicking its way into his mouth, it doesn’t look like it’s going to be just a chat.

The couch dips with Tsuyoshi’s weight and Koichi knows what’s coming, both fears and anticipates it. Just like in his fantasy, Tsuyoshi slowly shifts on top of him, hovering enough to be polite but close enough to feel. And Koichi does feel it, his breath hitching in his throat and his blood running hot at the discovery.

Tsuyoshi’s mouth leaves his abruptly, and Koichi might have whined. It’s on his neck next, making Koichi squirm beneath him and become aroused again in no time. Tsuyoshi moans when he notices this and slides his hands up the sides of Koichi’s chest to embrace him. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to hear from _Nagase_ of all people?”

“Nagase has a big fucking mouth,” Koichi mutters, but he’s not really mad.

The mail on his phone that he won’t find until the next morning tells him that Nagase’s not really sorry either.


End file.
